Just like the terrace door, apparently.
She makes me come into her office where she offers me a business card and more assurance of her help.
When I get back in the games lounge, trolley lady is on her way there too. And if the smell from the teapot is any clue, this is real PG Tips.
When she pours more cups, this time it’s not already milky. She offers us a milk jug and more of the chocolate biscuits.
“We got the good brew,” Deniro says excited. “And extra biscuits? How did you manage that?”
“Your granddaughter is a miracle worker.” This from Vanessa, her voice is mellow and rich. If I’m not mistaken, it’s a trained voice. If you know what to look for you can always tell when someone has a professional voice. Could she have been a singer or an actor in her youth?
“I hope you’re coming tomorrow,” she says with a smile.
Everyone looks at me with hopeful eyes. Especially my grandfather. His eyes almost beg me.
Chapter Eleven
Tuesday, 13th November. Kendric House Kitchen
“Would it be okay if I stayed until the end of the month?” I do a quick calculation in my head. “Seventeen days.”
It’s Tuesday and Haneen’s already taken her daughter to school, now she’s relaxing with a coffee before she has to go to her shop and start work.
“Of course you can.”
“What can I do to contribute? Does anyone need help with anything?” I’m not really skilled at anything except acting.
She sips her coffee and looks at me over the rim of her mug, then suddenly laughs. “Don’t look so worried. You’ll find a way when it’s the right time. I’m just glad you met your granddad.”
Granddad. Another word I’m not used to hearing in connection with myself.
Then out of the blue another question occurs to me. “Haneen? You don’t happen to know a man with lots of long hair and a beard. He’s very tall.”
She wrinkles her brow for a minute. “Not off the top of my head. Why?”
“I met him the other day when I came. He gave me directions. Then I saw him yesterday at The Glyn. He seemed like – I don’t know. An employee or maybe a resident.”
“Is he old?”
I try to picture him again. It’s hard to tell under all that hair, but no. “I’d say young.”
“Then not a resident.” She gives me a penetrating look. “Why?”
“The manager asked him to keep the garden doors shut for safety, but later I saw him and the doors were open.”
“Are you worried he might be putting people at risk? Maybe tell the manager.”
“I don’t want to interfere. It’s just I was curious.”
Again, she seems to study me. “You do care. Even though you only just met these people.”
Yes, I do, and the idea of someone putting them at risk bothers me. On the other hand, the place was stifling hot and part of me was glad to see the door open to let in a little fresh air. Before sticking my oar in, can I be entirely sure who was in the wrong?
In the meantime, I go round Kendric House and introduce myself again to everyone and ask them if they need any help – unskilled help.
Alex is in the ballroom. This is a central room the size of a theatre with very high ceilings and a hexagonal shape. A double staircase curves up from the right and left to meet in a sort ofgallery on the first floor. It makes me think of period dramas where royal guests stand at the top to look down on a party.
Alex is halfway up the left staircase, cleaning a blue and light green mosaic panel about the size of a dinner plate. “I’m glad you’re still here,” he says without even looking, as if he has eyes in the back of his head.
